


Drowsy

by RadioactiveRoulette



Series: What Lies Below [5]
Category: Baldur's Gate, Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), baldur's gate 3
Genre: Discussion of Injury, F/M, Gen, Vampire Bites, overlap of game dialogue, spoilers for some game dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RadioactiveRoulette/pseuds/RadioactiveRoulette
Summary: Ignorance can't last forever.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Astarion/Female Charname (Baldur's Gate)
Series: What Lies Below [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1985663
Comments: 5
Kudos: 77





	Drowsy

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoy this one, it has been one of my favorites to write so far.

"You are weak. I fear you will be _ghaik_ before night's end." 

"I am quite tired, thank you for noticing." Cyderi mumbles into her knees, teetering precariously from side to side as exhaustion sets in.

"You have proven adequate in battle. I will make your death quick - this I will do to honor you."

"And you have a pleasant evening as always, Lae'zel." Cyderi nods solemnly at the Githyanki warrior, which as far as she can tell, is the only platitude the woman will accept. 

Lae'zel seems satisfied, abruptly striding away to wait for Cyderi's transformation from the comfort of her own tent. Slightly dazed, the drow wiggles her fingers at her companion's back in a poor attempt at a wave. Lolling her head back on her knees in the opposite direction, she watches as the rest of the party meander about their nightly tasks. Gale is either reading a book or caressing one, and either seems equally likely. Wyll might be oiling armor. Shadowheart continues to sit, head bowed in reverence in either meditation or unspoken prayer. Astarion is… no where to be seen.

It irks her. It irks her right to her core and motivates her to finally lift her heavy head and scan the camp. Gale catches her wandering eye and lays the maybe book, maybe book lover, on the ground before picking his way across camp to sit beside her. He is as merciful as he is loquacious, as this does allow her to sink her head back to her legs as she greets him.

Gale looks her over in silence before parsing a simple question. "What’s on your mind?"

"A tadpole, I'm sure. Lae'zel says I'm going to turn tonight." Her voice lacks emotion, she finds herself bemused by the nightly death threats. 

"Lae'zel may be a great many things, but I have a feeling than an accomplished healer she is not. Nor am I for that matter, but I do think I can offer some assistance in this particular regard."

Cyderi hums and wiggles a finger in a circular motion for Gale to continue which he does with haste, ever eager to provide actionable solutions. 

"I think you are encountering a setback often experienced by those that primarily dwell in the Underdark and then seek the surface for one reason or another. You haven't been able to connect in a proper trance in awhile either, if my guess is correct."

She nods, eyelids falling ever lower as she listens. She likes Gale, honestly she does. Now though, his voice grates on her nerves and she buries her face firmly against her arms to hide most of her unintended scowl. 

"You're positively exhausted. If you would like, I can cast a spell to help alleviate some of these issues. Perhaps with a full night's rest you'll feel more like yourself again, and be back to those elven trances in no time!"

"I'm not sure how I feel about being entirely out of commission. What if something were to happen overnight?" Cyderi arches a brow, forcing her mouth to quirk into a lopsided grin. "What if I twitch in my sleep and Lae'zel thinks me in the final stage of transformation?"

Gale opens his mouth but no answers flow out. His jaw closes with a tic as he hums to himself as he tends to do when perplexed. "Maybe, with enough tweaking I could…" He stands, words drifting away as he walks back towards his tent. 

Cyderi considers the proposition in his absence. The idea holds merit, instead of fighting through another broken trance, maybe she should try sleeping. She'd dismissed the thought out of hand the other day, content to muddle through until she found her center again. But...it isn't like she can't sleep, she just hasn't in… Hells, she can't remember the last true sleep she'd succumbed to; she'd either been very young or very ill at the time. 

She stands, resolve strengthened. She will sleep tonight, but not here. She'll take her bedroll and rest near the edge of the water. Sleeping feels too vulnerable for the middle of camp. She knows it's silly; so many of the others sleep near her with regularity, but this souring taste in her mouth reminds her far too much of failure. She does not need the heat from half a dozen pairs of eyes to weaken her commitment to healing now. She makes sure her bedroll is still visible from their lookout ridge, congratulating herself on not being an entire idiot - just a tired idiot. She flops onto the healthy stack of blankets and furs. This close to the shore she can hear the soft current pushing lazily along the bank and just as she wonders how long it takes for sleep to set in, she is out.

Sleep, while eager to take her quickly, does not seem to want her completely. An eerie encompassing silence wakes her from her slumber. Blearily blinking sleep from her eyes, she feels a rush of adrenaline slam into her as a feather light touch brushes the back of her neck. Her arm shoots up reactively and grabs a cool wrist, pinning it in place as she rolls towards the would be attacker, their arm pinned beneath her back. Cyderi locks eyes immediately with a surprised and all too close Astarion. 

"Shit. No.no this isn't what it looks like." He frantically tries to scramble away, but her awkward grip on his wrist holds him in place, the noise that pulls from his throat is more a whimper than a grunt as her weight settles against his arm fully. Gingerly she sits up, his wrist still captive as she eyes him warily, repositioning her grip. 

"I'd love to know what it is supposed to look like." Cyderi says, surprised by the thickness of her voice. Clearing her throat softly, she looks towards camp. "You and Lae'zel in agreement then?" 

"I… what?" 

"You see me as a threat." 

"Entirely right, but I do feel I'm missing something here." Astarion moves to free his wrist with his other hand, wincing with the movement. Her grip holds. "What does Lae'zel have to do with this?" He gestures between the two of them, brow raised.

Cyderi considers him for a moment before speaking. "You've come to kill me, yes?" 

Astarion stares at her, his attempts to extricate himself abandoned temporarily. She revels in the confusion etched on his face, pleased to be the one to put him off balance for once.

"It's fair, you know. I'd hoped my usefulness would extend a bit further, but I do see the appeal. Which method are you intent to try then?"

"Method?"

Moving quickly she drags him forward by his wrist enough that she can unseat the dagger from its sheath near his hip, brandishing it as she talks. "A sharp stab to the belly? Those wounds are slow to kill, infection would take me before blood loss would." Rolling the hilt of the weapon across the bones of her wrist she catches the toss with a practiced ease. "You'd mentioned decapitation before… but I've a surprising amount of head left on my shoulders if that was your goal." She hums again, considering him. "Or perhaps you've lost a desire for theatrics - just a quick slash across my throat and then done with me, hmm?" She follows her words with an embellished wave of the blade over her throat. 

His gaze drops, following her fingers as they dance across the weapon in her Uncharacteristically elaborate show before resting on the white tattoos framing her jaw, a look that catches her with surprising familiarity. No. No he's not looking at her jaw. He's staring at her throat. He's staring at her throat as he had done every day since they'd met; hunger evident in every line of his unfortunately handsome face. 

"Hells." She exhausts a sigh, releasing his wrist and chucking the dagger to the side as she flops back down on her bedroll, eyes skyward. "It's you. You're the shitting vampire. And I'm the idiot." 

He rushes forward, closing the distance between them. "I'm not here to hurt you. Just… blood. I need blood." 

"Yes, I've gathered as much." She rolls to her side arm supporting her head as she looks at him inquisitively. "Where then?" 

Astarion looks so far out of his depth that Cyderi begins giggling in spite of herself. "I'm... sorry?"

"Yes, I'm aware. What I'm not aware of is the protocol here. Do I need to lay in a certain way? Is it easiest to feed from the neck?" Cyderi considers, tilting her head this way and that to visualize the best path forward.

"I… really? Well. In that case…" His eyes catch hers, cocky lilt filtering back into his voice. She swears she can see his eyes brighten. His incredulity is evident, he seems entirely perplexed that this situation is resolving in his favor. "I swear, not a drop more than necessary."

Cyderi tires of his waffling, rolling to rest her weight on her knees. She gestures about, seeking his insight.

He snaps out of his reverie, smile smoothing into place: a mask hiding his confusion well. If Cyderi had not seen it herself, she would question if it existed at all. _That_ Astarion has been wholly replaced by charm incarnate. "There are many places that work well for feeding, but some are more… intimate than others. May I?" His hand reaches towards her face.

She arches a brow finding herself surprisingly amused by his antics as she ignores how deliberate her breathing has become. Her answering nod is sharp. Astarion's fingers trail her jawline and wind their way down to cover her pulse. She speaks to distract from the unexpected gentleness of this moment. "If I treated my meals this way, I'd be a far better cook… Or often thrown out of taverns." He stills, mouth twitching before he gestures at her bedroll. She considers him for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I want to face you. I've a mind to trust you in this, but I can't trust your hunger."

He stills, nodding slightly as his eyes watch the thrum of blood at her pulse, his fingers whispering over her dark skin in anticipation. 

Cyderi steels herself and locks her arms over his shoulders, craning her head to allow access to her throat. His hands cradle her jaw, almost tenderly for a brief moment before she feels the bite. Sharp and cold, sensation arcs out crashing over her like waves. Her arms tighten involuntarily, and she finds herself plastered against him as he drinks life from her wound. 

She's not entirely sure when her fingers ended up threaded in the ends of his hair, but as she tugs on the strands she feels his groan vibrate against her neck and he redoubles his efforts. Her body is on fire with sensation, every nerve aware and alight. If not for the icy chill seeping into every joint as he drains her, she would let him drink his fill. His name crosses her lips as a plea and a prayer as she moves to pull away.

He releases her neck, head resting on her shoulder, face still buried against her skin. She can feel his heavy breath, hot against the chill that has overtaken her usual warmth. She can feel his tongue, lapping at the marks he's placed on her neck. She can feel his hands, one rubbing a light line on her collar bone as the other circles her waist. The intimacy makes her head spin. 

Words she can't decipher are murmured against her skin, voice thick with her blood. Her full awareness returns and she notices her own hand still tangled in his hair. Experimentally she tugs, eliciting a grumble as he slowly pushes himself away. His eyes catch hers for a moment and she sees something new in his gaze. She clears her throat softly. "I will absolutely find a pitchfork or a torch if you even consider calling me delicious. You have been warned."

A dark chuckle breaks his silence. "You have my word. You're rather bland really." 

She huffs, resting her forehead against his chest for a moment while she gathers herself. "Is it always quite so intense, or will this get easier?"

Astarion goes still, and Cyderi picks up her head to stare at him, perplexed. "I'm not entirely certain. You would let me… oh what was it? Right. Savor your particular flavor again?" 

"That will also elicit pitchforks and torches, just so you know." Cyderi levels a stare at him, but the yawn she stifles ruins the effect somewhat. "I won't let you starve, Astarion." She slumps, thankful his arms are still there to keep her upright. He lifts her with ease and deposits her on the nearby bedroll. 

"I won't forget this." 

She nods, saluting him with a lazy hand and haphazard click of her tongue as he stands with a chuckle. He walks away from camp, moving with a predatory powerful ease. 

She succumbs quickly to a blissfully dreamless sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I get a kick out of missing textures, and items - especially when other characters are interacting with those missing elements in the background of a scene. 
> 
> I had a bit of a glitch where Cyderi (after a failed check) ended up dead by the river some how after that fateful night at camp, so I did want to work that in, in a slightly less fatal way. There were also some clipping issues in the scene the first time I saw it where one of her arms disappeared entirely, which was fun and I'm sure didn't cause her any panic whatsoever.
> 
> She also had a camp related issue where she kept frowning after a dialogue scene. Such a grumpy cleric. 
> 
> I honestly adore Lae'zel - I keep her in my party often. She and Astarion dabble in murder hijinks together and I enjoy that dynamic immensely.  
> I did my editing on my phone - errors are unintended and will be flayed within an inch of their life... when I find them.


End file.
